


When the Sun Goes Down

by EpiKatt



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bartenders, Communication, Domestic Fluff, Fights, Fist Fights, Fluff, Gangs, Gunshot Wounds, Healing, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Russian Mafia, Stabbing, Threats of Violence, god so much more fluff than i signed up for fr, im so proud of them, kind of? it's makarov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26720461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpiKatt/pseuds/EpiKatt
Summary: Gary "Roach" Sanderson was just dumped by his girlfriend and Simon "Ghost" Riley is fresh out of a gang and in a bar. Roach just wants an easy fuck and Ghost still has some loose ends when they meet at a bar and commiserate. It really only gets worse from there.
Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Comments: 54
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this like a week ago so I'd be able to post it on my birthday. Haven't actually written anymore so let's hope I'll be able to finish lolol. The whole thing is mapped now I just gotta write it. If you do decide to stick around and read it, good luck and thank you. Also the summary sucks ass I know I'm sorry.
> 
> Hope you enjoy my first attempt at writing and finishing a fully chaptered story.
> 
> EDIT: 1/9/2021  
> I made some minor changes, but I'm pretty happy with this chapter. I'm far more certain the later chapters will have more drastic changes.
> 
> Title from Arctic Monkeys. (I'm gonna stop saying unbeta'd; let's just assume they are from now on.)

Today was a truly awful day, Gary decided rather early in said day. In fact, the clock had barely struck twelve times when he decided the day was awful. His (now ex) girlfriend decided to break up with him by pulling up to his apartment in another man’s car, which took him very little time to figure out had actually been his boss. She’d seemed so casual, saying how he was always distracted and how he didn’t care for her anyway and couldn’t they stay friends?

He’d promptly shut the door with no words and figured that was answer enough.

Spending the rest of the day packing up her stuff, he didn’t quite realize how late it was until he looked up and found he needed to turn the lights on. He stood up fully and frowned. 

He couldn’t deny that he  _ really  _ wanted to get drunk, and his bar was obviously out of the question. Tossing the last box outside his front door, he remembered hearing some patrons a while back talking about the new bar a few blocks away called the W141. It’d apparently been created by a WW2 vet, which had made anyone nearby immediately attracted to such an establishment. Gary had been too young to enlist by the time the war ended, barely seventeen, and not long after he’d gotten the news that his father had died in an air raid the German’s had done in a desperate move that had backfired horribly. Go figure.

Gary would be lying if he said he’d grieved horribly. In fact, it had been almost a relief to get the news, and even if his mother pretended not to be, he knew she was too. Gary’s father was never a nice man, could barely be called a decent citizen, and had even attempted to dodge his draft before Gary’s mom had called the station and they had made him show up before he could actually go anywhere. Gary had been fifteen and unsure in life but sure in his love for his mother and had backed her without a doubt. 

As it was, he hadn’t seen her in months since he’d left Virginia and moved to New York, desperate to start over. He made sure to send her letters fairly often, every month or so, since he knew how pleased she got whenever he sent one. One thing was for certain, though. New York was much, much different to Virginia.

Putting on a white shirt and clipping on his suspenders he hummed thoughtfully. He wanted to have sex. Badly. He knew if he were still in Virginia and he did so outside of marriage, he’d be ostracised. But here? In New York? No one would bat an eye. Gary smiled a little before tugging on some dark pants and tucking his shirt in, smoothing the wrinkles down some before slipping into his shoes. 

Five more minutes and he was in his car, his beautiful Skylark and pride and joy. Fifteen more minutes and he was at the bar, pulling in, stopping the car and getting out. He looked around curiously and found the parking lot already near half full and it wasn’t even eight p.m. yet. Busy night.

Slipping inside, the heady scent of cigarette smoke and beer assaulted his senses, along with the sound of a record player loudly playing Glenn Miller in the corner. He grinned. God he loved Glenn Miller.

People were already tipsy and on the dance floor, so Gary slid past them and to the bar seats, sitting next to a quiet man on his left, with the wall on his right.

The bartender, a man with a very peculiar haircut and an obvious Scottish accent asked for his order, which Gary just replied to with a simple “Vodka.” He didn’t care what kind, he just wanted to not be able to tell what was up and what was down. Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken his car. Oh well, hindsight and all that.

A medium sized glass was placed in front of him along with the bottle. “You look like you need it,” was the bartender’s explanation before wandering off to serve someone else. After taking a sip and wincing, he turned to look at the mystery man beside him.

The first thing he noticed was the large scarf wrapped around his face, even though it was only October. The second was that the man was very sturdy and Gary couldn’t help but think, charming from what he could see. The feeling of guilt churning in his gut at the thought was shoved down, he refused to give into it.

Gary turned back to his Vodka and poured the glass half full, wanting to start slow, he supposed even as he knew the likelihood of finishing the bottle was high. He was already anticipating the hangover.

After taking a sip and ignoring the burn as it trailed down his throat and settled comfortably in his belly, he turned right back to the silent man beside him and decided to strike up a conversation.

“So, what sorrows are you here to drown?” he asked casually, taking another sip with a barely discernible wince. No, the second go-round was not better than the first.

Mystery-man twitched like he heard Gary but didn’t want to turn, but he heard a faint sigh and his head moved to glare at Gary. 

“You assume I’m here to drown sorrows, but it could just as easily be me liking to drink,” Mystery-man pointed out, and  _ oh,  _ he had a British accent. How lovely. Positively swoon-worthy.

Gary shrugged, taking another sip, which thankfully went down easier before chasing after it with a bigger gulp. “Not all of us can be in sound mind while at a bar,” Gary retorted, voice slightly hoarse.

Mystery-man chuckled, and oh boy that was definitely all low and sexy and  _ damn  _ Gary wanted. “Again, ya assume I’m in my right mind. Mate, I’m just not here to drink about the stuff in my head,” he stated, picking up a glass of amber liquid with a probable smirk by the telltale quirk of his brow and downing what was left with ease.

“What’s your name, stranger?” Gary asked, changing topics quickly so as to not make a bigger fool of himself.

Mystery-man seemed to hesitate, like he wasn’t sure what the answer was before his shoulders relaxed and he replied. “Simon. You?”

“Gary,” he replied, reaching his hand forward to shake, which Simon hesitantly returned.

Gary finished up his glass of vodka and poured a second, more full glass before picking up the conversation again, head on its way to pleasantly fuzzy.

“So if you’re not here to drown your sorrows in liquor, then why are you here?” he asked, settling his jaw in his hand and peering up at Simon.

“I already told ya; just felt like drinking. What about you, then, mister questions?”

Gary snorted into his glass, and he already knew his cheeks were beginning to flush from the liquor. He’d been told multiple times how endearing it was to those who knew him.

Before answering, he pulled out a tin of cigarettes and took one and lit it. After putting it in his mouth and taking a quick drag, he motioned the tin forward in invitation, and was pleasantly surprised when Simon took one and lit it as well. After shutting it and putting it back in his pocket while taking another drag, he finally answered.

“Ah, well. My girlfriend, well, former girlfriend I suppose, showed up this morning saying she’s leaving me for another man, my boss wouldn’t you know. Then she asks if we can be friends like she didn’t just come around parading with my boss,” he snorted again and rolled his eyes, pausing to take a few more drags to compose himself and was glad Simon seemed to be waiting patiently while smoke trailed from them, joining the cloud that seemed to be hovering in the dim room.

“She did have a point about me being distant, which I get because I was, but damn she could have ended it a bit nicer,” he huffed, staring at the bartop in silence while plowing through his cigarette in another minute or so before gulping down the bottom half of his glass, definitely buzzed now and well on his way to drunk as he refilled it yet again.

“And sure, I didn’t really love her, at least not yet. She was real sweet, easy on the eyes, thought she was loyal but we’ve seen how that turned out,” he muttered bitterly, taking one more gulp before settling onto his elbows with a sigh. “Could have learned to love her,” he muttered.

Simon let out a quiet laugh before tossing his cigarette stub to the ground and flagged the bartender down for another drink.

“Mate, you certainly have a lot to drink to tonight,” he mused after getting another drink. He held it up and shook it pointedly, rattling the ice, and even Gary knew to hold his own up and clink them together. 

“Cheers,” Simon said, smile obvious before taking a sip. Gary rolled his eyes but did the same. He suddenly realized that Simon had neglected to pull the scarf back up, but the lighting didn’t leave you much to see.

“Glad you find my misery endearing,” he said, pointing at Simon lazily for no clear reason. Everything was already starting to pleasantly fade and he was finding the urge to pin Simon to a wall or even be pinned by Simon to a wall was only growing. He glanced at his watch and found it was nearing nine thirty. His extended silences must have gone on longer than expected. He was surprised Simon hadn’t spoken up.

“Oh yes, it’s the perfect sight to fill me with joy,” Simon responded sarcastically. 

Gary suddenly realized that the scarf was lower now, even lower than before, obviously due to the drinking, and even in the dim lighting he could catch the faint glint of old scars along his jawline and around his face. He was immediately intrigued and much more attracted. Not all the heat in his belly was from drinking.

The next two hours were blurrier and blurrier while also getting progressively warmer as well. Gary knew to outsiders, the two of them just looked like two friends having a drink together, which was exactly what Gary was hoping people would see them as, because he was getting more sure that Simon was also interested in him the drunker he got. Gary still wasn’t sure if he wanted to take the plunge and ask just in case he’d been misreading everything and his entire life was about to be outed. He didn’t want to leave town just for a possible one night stand.

But when he was drinking the last drops from his glass and the last of his bottle, he saw Simon staring openly at his throat before his gaze flicked up to Gary’s lips when he licked them and suddenly Gary was sure.

He quickly glanced around to make sure the area was clear before leaning forward, crowding into Simon’s space. “D’you wanna go fuck in the alley behind the building?” he slurred quietly, and even drunk he was wary. You didn’t live that long being part queer without some sort of self preservation.

When he saw Simon’s lips curl into a smirk he knew he’d guessed right. “Was really hoping for a shag tonight,” he replied, nodding his head toward the back exit. 

Gary, suddenly nervous and shaking slightly, quickly paid for his tab before walking out, trying to be as casual as possible even with his shoulders hunched forward.

He was out there waiting for maybe two minutes, swaying back and forth drunkenly before Simon came out and grabbed a piece of plywood from the nearby dumpster and jammed the door shut. It wouldn’t stop them from being discovered, but it would sure help deter it or warn them.

No more did Gary think that before Simon was on him, caging him against the bricks with a barely visible grin. “Like I was saying; was  _ really _ itching for a shag before a handsome thing walked by and sat next to me. Someone must have heard me to deliver such a lovely young man,” Simon breathed, leaning forward and mouthing at Gary’s neck.

Gary was helpless to praise and it showed. He swallowed nervously, heartbeat picking up and beating rapidly against Simon’s tongue. He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands and settled with putting them on Simon’s hips and pulling him closer so their hips were touching. 

Simon continued to suck kisses higher and higher up, never long or hard enough to bruise, but just long enough to be pleasurable. When he was right below Gary’s jaw, he bit down gently and if he wasn’t hard he sure was now. He let out a strained grunt and reached up to grab Simon’s jaw and moved him into a proper kiss.

Gary was relieved when Simon responded enthusiastically, but was still extremely horny and straining at his zipper painfully. Even with Simon’s tongue doing delicious things in his mouth, he managed to unzip his pants and pull out his achingly hard erection, the cool air doing nothing to diminish it. 

Simon pulled away suddenly and Gary suddenly realized how out of breath he was, taking in quick needy gulps of air as Simon unzipped himself and pulled his own erection out.

Simon crowded back against Gary and the first touch on his erection made him growl and mutter a hoarse “Fuck!”

Gary only realized his eyes were closed when he felt Simon pull away and heard him spitting into his hand, coming back and holding both their erections in one firm, broad hand.

He could do nothing except grab Simon by the back of his neck and drag him into another brutal kiss, teeth clicking together and lips being bitten.

Simon began jacking them both after another moment of being distracted by kissing, and when he twisted his wrist just  _ so,  _ Gary gasped. “Do that again!” he demanded roughly, hips arching forward to chase Simon’s grip.

He felt more than heard Simon chuckle against his mouth, leaning forward to kiss him again but they were both so breathless it was practically just their mouths pressed together while breathing heavily.

Simon kept his wrist going, doing that little fantastic twist every once in a while, but soon Gary was feeling warmth curl in his gut and was slowly trailing up, his eyes were squeezed tight and his hips were stuttering rapidly. He quickly brought his hand up and bit down on his thumb to mute the sound of his definite shout as he came, pleasure rolling through him rapidly. It was only a few seconds longer before he felt Simon’s movements still and he collapsed against Gary, both breathing heavily.

Gary will later blame the post-sex haze on what he said next. “Wanna come back to mine?” he asked, tucking his face into the curve of Simon’s neck.

There was a pause. “Sure,” Simon muttered, slowly pulling away and tucking himself and Gary back in before zipping them up as well. Ever the gentleman.

“C’mon, it isn’t far,” Gary murmured, straightening up and quickly making sure everything was in place. Once that was done, he rolled the kinks out of his shoulders before pulling out the piece of plywood and tossing it aside and walked outside the alley. 

Seeing it was clear, he motioned for Simon to follow him and they began their walk.

Gary wasn’t lying when he said it wasn’t far, which he was thankful for as he had to go back for his car the next day. The walk only took about ten minutes and when they stumbled into the apartment, they quickly undressed and fell into bed.

No more words were spoken, as they were both exhausted and were asleep in mere minutes. Gary knew he’d regret it in the morning, hoped his neighbors would think nothing of Simon leaving, maybe they’d think Simon his brother.

Oh well, those were tomorrow thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I'm sorry for the wait, I was having a rough few weeks and had no motivation for writing. To be honest, I hardly had any motivation for anything lol.
> 
> This one's a bit shorter than the last chapter, but it's also pretty much exposition so. Hope you enjoy! I'll try and get the next chapter out ASAP. (If you couldn't tell there's no update schedule lol)

Well, tomorrow came. And uh, so far not well. When Gary first came to, he was on his stomach, face turned right against an arm, which he quickly realized was Simon’s. He snorted in a breath, grimacing when he felt spit on his face and when the light headache and heavy nausea set in. 

He nearly resettled back against Simon, since he was craving a bit of human contact after his ex, craved a little creature comfort. Before he could actually follow through, Simon stiffened, and Gary suddenly knew he was awake and that this was most likely not his best idea. If anything, it may actually be his worst.

Simon sat up quickly, turning to Gary, taking in his form, before grimacing himself and grabbing his head. 

Gary, with lack of idea for anything else to say, weakly asked; “Er, want any coffee?”

“Aye,” came Simon’s muffled response. 

“Um. Bathroom’s down the hall on the left,” he suggested, watching the man wearily.

He didn’t get an answer, but Simon slid out of bed in his rumpled clothes and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. Gary swallowed before getting out as well and going into the kitchen and making a pot of coffee.

A few minutes later, Simon came meandering out and sat down heavily on a barstool, saying nothing. 

The silence stayed thick in the room, the only noise was the sound of the coffee percolating. Gary wasn’t sure what to say, and Simon didn’t look very forthcoming either.

Finally, the coffee dripped to a stop and Gary’s shoulders slumped in relief. He quickly grabbed two mugs and filled them both. He assumed that Simon took his coffee black, and was pleased to see he was right when the man didn’t object when he handed it over. He doctored his own coffee up with a couple spoonfuls of sugar before gulping down the piping hot liquid.

It seemed like only another five minutes before Simon finished his coffee and at least politely put the empty mug in the sink. He glanced at Gary and narrowed his eyes a little. 

“You will not speak about this, eh?” he said, eyes narrowing even further.

Gary felt a little insulted and scoffed. “‘Course not, I’m not an imbecile,” he snapped, quickly turning back to his mug and finishing it off before placing it in the sink as well. When he turned back around, though, Simon was gone.

_ Asshole. _

  
  
  


After getting a shower and properly dressed, Gary walked back to the bar to get his car, finding it mildly amusing how he’d walked the same path the night prior utterly smashed. 

When he got there, he saw a piece of paper under his windshield wiper and frowned, drawing nearer and plucking it out, reading it. 

_ Heard from someone that you were a fairly good bartender and we’re hiring. Starting wage on the back. _

Gary hesitantly flipped over the paper and his eyes widened. This was several dollars more an hour than his previous salary. His mind quickly went to how his ex girlfriend was with his boss and how he  _ really  _ didn’t want to see them together. After that, the decision was rather obvious.

When he went into work that night, he quietly told his boss his two weeks notice. He wasn’t quiet out of fear, but rather out of restraint to keep from beating the shit out of his boss, though the blame was also on his ex. 

His boss didn’t seem too surprised and just waved him out of his office, rolling his eyes. It irked Gary, but he couldn’t do much to dispute him, even if he was leaving. Didn’t need his boss to get petty and inform his future boss of his misdoings. 

With that settled, Gary went about his day as usual and resolved himself to bring up the position at the other bar that evening when he got off. 

Unsurprisingly, when his ex came in later that night, it was extremely awkward, though it seemed only for him. She seemed completely unaffected, smiling at him, all teeth and gum before going into his boss’s office to do who-knows-what. 

  
  
  


He got off around one a.m., driving to the W141 and hoping it was still open. When he got there, the lot was nearly empty but the lights were on so he walked in, looking around warily once he entered. 

“Hello?” he called, jumping a little when the Scottish man from the night prior popped out from behind the counter looking slightly flushed. The whole bar was empty, the records all put back up and the chairs put on top of the tables. When Gary saw another man pop off beside the Scot, equally flustered, he felt his ears warm in embarrassment, but didn’t do anything to let them know he noticed. He was rather sure the only reason he did was from his own sojourn the night before. He knew the men could easily say that they’d been restocking glasses, or wiping off shelves, and most would believe them. As it was, Gary decided not to ask.

“Er, I had a job offer?”

The Scottish one decided to pick this up. “Yeah, put that in your windshield. Was lookin’ ‘round for good bartenders when your name popped up. I did hear that you had a job, however, so you’ll have to put in your two weeks notice before we’ll look further-”

“I already did,” he interrupted, wincing a little. When the Scot just looked at him, he decided to clarify. “I put in my notice this morning. My ex and my boss decided they were better off together, so I decided I was better off elsewhere,” he explained sourly.

The Scot laughed a little. “Well then. When your two weeks are up, you can show up the Sunday after for training and Monday will be your first day, alright?”

Even though he knew how to run a bar, he figured the in’s and out’s of a new establishment would help.

“And by the way, my name’s John MacTavish, but just uh, just call me Soap, and no, you can’t ask.” Gary already had the question half formed when he was shut down and just smiled sheepishly.

The man beside him finally spoke and Gary realized his accent was similar to Simon’s.

“Name’s John Price, yes, we know, just call me Price,” he introduced, stepping forward and holding out his hand, which Gary took and shook firmly, before doing the same with Soap.

“We’re excited to work with you,” Soap said. “We’ll discuss everything else during training. Have a safe trip home.”

Gary quickly said his goodbye’s as well before leaving, giddy at the thought of a new job.

  
  
  


The next two weeks passed in an awkward blur, spots of nothing interspersed with visits from his ex at the establishment with the one sided uncomfortableness. His night with Simon slowly slipped from his mind, though he did think rather often on what an odd character he was, but that couldn’t be helped, he supposed.

By the end of the two weeks, he couldn’t say he wasn’t happy to leave, because he was. 

A few days after packing up his meager few things at the previous bar, he showed up to the W141 for his training which went rather smoothly, and Soap was indeed impressed, so Gary got to keep the job. He wasn’t very concerned even if he didn’t get it, he would have left his previous job either way.

Before leaving, Gary was told there would be another coworker he’d be working with with the nickname “Ghost,” which Gary thought interesting, and said so aloud, causing Soap to laugh. 

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll just glare at you,” Soap mused.

So, Gary went home that night, pleased and excited, and woke up early enough to get ready before heading over a little after lunch. 

He showed up about an hour before opening and Soap came out from the backroom to tell him hello, while Price stayed elusive as usual.

He began to set up, making sure everything was full and clean. After a few minutes, the front entrance opened and shut and he looked up, curious to see who his coworker was. His whole body froze the second his eyes locked on who was standing in front of the bar. 

“You…!” Simon said, voice low and dangerous.

Gary gaped. “You?!”

Dear Lord, this couldn’t go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowee end of chapter, thanks to those who have made it to the second chapter! And good luck reaching chapter three, hope you're enjoying, it's been fun writing this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow once again sorry this took so long. Pretty sure this will be a common theme but I'm trying here. The lack of motivation is real, I'm exhausted ALL THE TIME, I've even started guzzling water to combat the effects. I'm desperate.  
> On that note, really hope you enjoy the chapter, it's a pretty fun one.

When Gary woke up that morning, he really didn’t expect this to happen. In all honesty, he was expecting a rather sedate night, as it was only Monday, and to go home and have a bowl of cereal before falling asleep. What he  _ wasn’t  _ expecting, was to see his awkward one night stand in front of him with a look of fury painted all over his face. Well, he never said he was one for a casual night. 

_ “What are you doing here!?”  _ Ghost whispered furiously, leaning across the bar to loom over Gary.

“Er. I work here now,” he replied, shrugging uncomfortably. What else was he supposed to say?

“And why, pray tell me,  _ are _ you working here?” he growled.

“Well, you see, Soap, er, gave asked me if I’d like to join and since you know about my previous boss I don’t have to explain that part, but I decided I’d do better at, well, a totally different establishment. You understand, right?” he rambled. He couldn’t quite understand why he was so nervous, but at the same time it was rather obvious.

Simon looked away, eyes narrowed. “Damn. And he even told me there was gonna be a new guy,” he muttered, seemingly talking to himself. Gary decided not to interrupt.

Simon turned back to him, eyes still narrowed. “Listen up then. You will call me Ghost, you will not mention our….  _ night,  _ and you will do your job competently,” he said lowly, scarf obscuring his mouth still. Gary just swallowed and nodded.

“‘Course..”

“Good. Don’t talk to me about anything not work related, either, and we’ll be square.”

“Oi! We’re opening soon, stop yammering and get ready!” Price snapped from his office, sounding annoyed.

“Sorry, Price!” Ghost called, glaring at Gary, as if daring him to say anything before slinking around behind the bar as well, on the opposite end as Gary.

Just a little before opening time, Gary was putting the more used drinks in their right places when something flashed in the corner of his vision. He did a double take and turned to look, and caught sight of a roach. Before he could stop himself he jumped in surprise and let go of the half filled expensive bottle of rum in his hand, shattering immediately on the bug.

“Shit!” he yelped, jumping back and staring at it wide eyed. “Fuck!” It seemed curses were all he could manage. He could work with this. If he wasn’t fired.

Ghost and Soap came walking up, Soap curious and Ghost visibly upset. “Er.”

“What happened?” Soap asked, frowning, His eyes had caught sight of the label and he wasn’t pleased.

“Well, there was a roach and it surprised me so um. I dropped the bottle on it,” he explained dumbly.

Soap lifted an eyebrow and looked over at Ghost. “Think we know the lad’s nickname, wouldn’t you say?”

Gary was instantly wary. “What?”   
  


Gary was nearly killed at the sight of Ghost giving a slow grin. 

“Welcome to the crew,  _ Roach.” _

_ Fuck. _

  
  
  


The rest of the evening was rather.. boring. Well, it wasn’t really boring it was just average. No more bickering with him and Ghost, they were too busy to, and no more liquor bottles shattering. All in all, it was a rather nice night. And now that he thought about it, he could still go home and eat some cereal before bed like he’d wanted to. That sounded great, actually. 

So when closing time came, after the last call and all the rest of the drunkards shuffled out, he called goodnight to Price and Soap and glanced warily at Ghost’s retreating back. He was in even more of a hurry than.. Roach.  _ Might as well get used to it,  _ he lamented. 

He pulled his coat on and left, enjoyed his bowl of cereal before bed like he so wanted, and fell asleep with little trouble. 

He really had no idea what he was getting into.

  
  
  


Roach couldn’t really say what happened the next month. It was really a blur of work and avoiding Ghost, and flirting accidentally with him when they bumped into each other. Needless to say, the sexual tension was mounting and Roach didn’t know what to do. He tried sleeping with a woman who was giving him moon eyes across the bar, but felt nothing when he kissed her out back and hastily excused himself.

He didn’t even want to risk it with another man, so he stewed, and pined. God did he pine. 

It was around the end of his first month of employment, the day before his first paycheck actually, when he caught something up with Ghost. 

He’d been working all night and it was getting late, and Ghost had just taken his break, and Soap offered to take over for a little bit so Roach could go smoke. Roach, thankful, patted Soap on the shoulder with a tired smile before heading out the back door and into the dark alley, thankfully empty of any other couples. 

Raised voices from around the back corner caught his attention. He frowned and quickly lit his ciggie before stepping forward and cautiously peered around the corner.

“C’mon, Ghost. The Boss is willing to let you back in if you’re nice about it and come back real easy,” an unknown man with a nasally voice said. His silhouette seemed thin, but he couldn’t quite tell in the dim lighting. All he could be sure of was that there were three strangers and Ghost in the middle, looking unconcerned with his ciggie in his mouth, glowing bright orange.

“You already know, Nelson, that I’m not goin’ back,” Ghost said lightly, inhaling the smoke before removing the cigarette and tapping some of the ash off the end as he exhaled. Casual as could be.

The three men seemed to stiffen a little in anger, Nelson shifting back and forth as if holding himself back.

“You know what’s gonna happen if the Boss finally decides he’s had enough of you refusing his generous offers,” Nelson warned, crossing his arms and widening his stance to look more threatening. Ghost seemed not to care, which didn’t really surprise Roach. 

He glanced down and his eyes widened as he forgot to tap the ash off his own cigarette and it was getting dangerously low. He hurriedly did so before looking back up.

He didn’t really mean to, he’ll swear later, but when he looked up, his eyes locked with Ghost’s and the other man’s eyes widened ever so slightly. They narrowed again, as if to say  _ bugger off  _ before quickly looking back up at Nelson so they wouldn’t notice Roach lurking. 

“Yeah, and I know what’s gonna happen to you if you keep talking to me,” Ghost said lowly, voice turning dangerous. Roach couldn’t lie, he was a little turned on.

The men around Ghost seemed to know how skilled the man in front of them was and took a step back. “We’ll be back, and likely not on such friendly terms,” Nelson growled, looking side to side at his buddies before turning around. Before they got too close, Roach quietly slipped back inside and kept the door open a sliver to make sure it didn’t make noise.

Not a moment later, the door slammed open and hit Roach square in the forehead, causing him to grunt and take a few steps back, gripping his head while hissing in pain through gritted teeth.

“What the fuck, man?” he demanded, scowling. 

Ghost just looked angry, and backed Roach up against the wall, crowding against him.

“You heard nothing, you saw nothing, and you will do nothing about the things you didn’t see or hear, got it?” he murmured in Roach’s ear, breath tickling his neck a little and he held back the urge to shiver.

“You know I’m not gonna say anything,” Roach muttered irritably, tilting his head away slightly.

Ghost grabbed Roach’s chin and dragged it back so they would be eye-to-eye. 

Roach swallowed nervously, unsure of where this was going, before Ghost leaned forward and kissed the ever loving fuck out of him. 

Roach was sure he was about to die from too much  _ everything,  _ when they both heard Soap call out impatiently for them to get off their breaks and back to work.

They jumped apart frantically, both breathless.

“This means nothing,” Ghost growled cryptically before turning and leaving. 

Roach stood there for another few seconds and stared at where Ghost disappeared and swallowed again, licking the taste of another brand of smokes off his lips.

“Well then,” he said hoarsely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall. I'm looking at my notes for the next chapter and you're gonna have some FUN reading it, don't even WORRY. Trying to decide if I want to make the next chapter longer or about the same, but I'm leaning toward longer if I can swing it. And if I haven't said it before, this whole fic is planned out, I just need to finish writing it lol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That election, huh? Anyway, yada yada yada sorry this took so long I've been extremely unmotivated etc. etc. we've heard it before ik. Anyway, the chapter is here! And a bit longer than the last ones! Hope you guys enjoy it, I thought it was pretty good.

The next week was.. interesting, was the best way Roach could put it. He and Ghost got along just fine; by not speaking to each other the whole time. Roach knew that Soap and Price knew something was up but weren’t saying anything and were letting he and Ghost to figure it out.

The tension between them was as bad as ever, and then there was the night in the alley that Ghost hadn't brought up once, so Roach hadn’t said anything either.

Roach had asked Soap if he could go home a little earlier that Friday, he had some things he wanted to get done before it was terribly late, and Soap was happy to oblige, willing to take over for the rest of his shift. 

So Roach’s evening was spent at the local grocery store for an hour before coming home with some of the stuff he’d missed with his former lesser paycheck, and the new one was doing wonders for his tastes. The rest of his night was spent lounging on the couch and watching bad westerns before he dozed off a little after midnight and the station had shut off with its usual of the national anthem and the ominous “Do you know where your children are?” 

A sudden banging on his door startled him awake, and a quick although blurry glance at the clock showed it to be nearly three a.m. Roach slipped off the couch with squinted eyes and stumbled to the door, slipping off the chain lock and wrenching the door open with a glare fully prepared.

He was stopped short when he saw who it was. “Simon?” he asked, bewildered.

Ghost just growled under his breath and pushed through Roach and inside while muttering, “it’s Ghost,” and falling onto the couch. Roach just shut the door with a frown and locked it again before turning to get a good look at Ghost. It took no time at all to see the blood splattered on Ghost’s shirt and all over his hands. 

Roach frowned. “Get off the couch, you’ll get it dirty,” he muttered, eyeing it carefully to check for stains once Ghost stood. After deeming it clean, he led Ghost into the bathroom and forced him to sit on the toilet lid. 

“Before I ask what happened, how much blood is yours?” Roach asked, crossing his arms and looking down at Ghost. 

“I split my knuckles. Should be it. Rest is the blokes who tried beating on me,” he growled, clenching his fists before wincing a little. Roach snorted in amusement and rolled his eyes. 

“Alright there, big guy. Get out of those clothes and take a shower and I’ll leave you some of my clothes, those are way too dirty,” Roach ordered, gesturing vaguely toward Ghost. 

“Towels are in that cabinet, plenty of hot water. Have fun,” he said before walking out and shutting the door. He wasn’t surprised to hear the click of the lock only a few seconds later.

Roach did as promised and got some of his older shirts and sweatpants, since they were a little bigger and more likely to fit Ghost. It couldn’t be helped that Roach also wanted to see Ghost in clothes he wouldn’t normally wear.

He killed the rest of the time Ghost spent in the shower by grabbing a spare blanket and pillow and setting them on the couch, figuring Ghost would be staying the night. He wouldn’t be allowed to sleep before he was told what happened first, though,

Finally, as he was fluffing the pillow absentmindedly, he heard the water shut off. He sighed and decided to make some coffee to kill the last few minutes. Unsurprisingly, Ghost came out before it was finished and sat on the couch in silence while they both waited for it to be done. Another couple minutes and Roach poured them both a mug, deciding to leave his black and gave Ghost his. 

He couldn’t help but draw a parallel between then and their night together before. The situations surrounding the coffee were drastically different, but the actions the same.

Roach settled onto the couch beside Ghost at a slight distance and sipped the scalding coffee with a wince, but did it again anyway for resolve. “Now, tell me what happened. I have a right to know as you used my shower and are sitting on my couch in my clothes,” Roach stated, watching Ghost take a sip with no reaction to its temperature.

Ghost sighed and shrugged. “You know those blokes that cornered me in the alley last week?” At Roach’s nod he continued. “Since I kept denying them, their boss sent some idiots to try and beat some sense into me. As you can see, it didn’t work, and I needed somewhere to lay low for a little bit to figure out what to do,” he explained, frowning down at the coffee, though Roach figured it had nothing to actually do with the drink.

“Notice how you didn’t actually ask me if you could hide out here,” Roach mused, reveling at the sight of Ghost looking uncertain of something for once. Before he could say anything else, Roach chuckled and shrugged. “Sure, go ahead, but I’m going to work still, so you’ll have to find ways to entertain yourself while I’m gone,” Roach said, drinking the last few sips of his coffee with a sigh.

“I can do that,” Ghost said quickly. Roach just sighed again, unsure of what to say at first. What are you supposed to say to the man who you slept with and was quickly rejected by said man later? Roach sure didn’t have a clue.

After several minutes of awkward silence, Roach finally dared to ask a question that had been itching at him since he met the man. “Can you tell me anything about your past?” he finally settled on.

Ghost finished his own coffee and set it aside before going silent. Roach almost thought that he wasn’t going to get an answer before Ghost’s shoulders tensed a little and he spoke. “I was a mortar man, and my first action seen was at Normandy. It was a few days into the push on the beach and one of our mortars misfired and sprayed my face full of shrapnel. Most of the reason my face is like this. It got infected and left these scars. I was shipped back out but missed most of the bigger sources of action,” he said lowly, gaze fixed firmly at something invisible on his thigh.

“I was too young to join the service before the war ended, barely seventeen when Japan surrendered,” Roach said awkwardly. 

“Good. It was hell over there,” he said darkly before continuing. “When I got back to London, after, I couldn’t stand the sight of everything bombed out and destroyed, even as everything was going back to normal, so I moved here. I joined a.. Gang, before deciding I was over violence and left. Now Makarov is pissed at me and I’m not going back,” he finished.

Roach snorted, bemused. “You certainly live a colorful life, huh?”

Ghost looked up and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Starting to wish it was more like yours, eh?”

Roach huffed. “Curious about my past? I feel a little bad listening to you and not offering anything,” he admitted.

Ghost stretched his arms back before resettling, finally starting to look tired. “I’ll listen.” Was all the answer he gave. 

Roach, enjoying a conversation with Ghost that wasn’t just purely uncomfortable, grasped the opportunity wholeheartedly. 

“My dad was a piece of shit, so when we heard that he’d died in the war, my mom and I got along much better. After I turned eighteen I moved up here from Virginia and have been bouncing from bar to bar as a bartender. Don’t really know what else to do. My life has only gotten more interesting since I met you.”

Roach didn’t really mean the words to sound so.. endearing, but that’s how they came out, and he could see the way Ghost watched him carefully behind half lidded eyes.

Roach swallowed and decided to risk asking. “Simon, why did you get so.. repulsed by me as soon as you sobered up?” he asked quietly, watching his face just as carefully as Ghost was watching his.

There was silence for a moment. “Because I was scared of getting attached to someone I couldn’t keep,” he admitted lowly. 

Roach frowned. “What made you assume you couldn't keep me? You’re not my first man, I know how to sneak around,” he said, confused.

Ghost looked uncomfortable again. “Was scared of asking you.”

“And did you? Get attached, I mean?”

Ghost hesitated before he sighed, shoulders slumping and face looking weary. “Yes.”

Before Roach could chicken out, he quickly closed the gap between them and kissed Ghost soundy on the mouth, barely much of a kiss before he pulled away, worried about the reaction he might get.

“You’re really willing to put up with me? Even after the hell I’ve put you through lately, and the current threats on my head?” Ghost asked quietly, oddly vulnerable. Roach had forgotten to turn the lamp off when watching T.V. and was now casting an attractive light over him and Ghost.

“I saw how you usually are the night we met, I knew this whole time how you’ve been treating me was just an act, I just couldn’t figure out why,” he said with a shrug.

Simon eyed him for a few seconds, before gently grabbing the back of Gary’s neck and bringing him down into another kiss while Gary held Simon’s arms quickly for balance. 

The kiss was languid, not really desperate and Gary couldn’t help but be thankful, he wasn’t up for much, and the coffee and earlier nap were only doing so much. He was tired and lazy kissing was just fine.

Simon slowly pulled away and smiled slightly. “Thank you for letting me stay here,” he murmured, hand not on the back of his neck rubbing Gary’s cheek with his thumb gently.

Gary let out a huff of air with a quirk of his lips. “Was no problem. Now, this couch will do terrible things to your back, so you’re very welcome to share my bed with me, as long as you promise to keep my virtue intact,” Gary said, amused and smiling more.

Simon chuckled and nodly a little, pushing Gary off of him lightly and getting off the couch. He waited patiently for Gary to do the same and lead him back and Gary was silently grateful. Once in the bedroom, he changed into a pair of sweatpants and an older shirt himself, the room too cold to go in just his underwear, before slipping under the blankets, Simon doing the same a few moments later.

Gary felt a little giddy when Simon slid a little closer, back to front, and slipped his arm over Gary’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder boldly. Gary leaned back into the touch, content, and slept peacefully.

  
  
  


The next morning, or really, afternoon, Roach was hesitant to leave and follow through on his statement to go to work, but in the end it was decided when Ghost told him he needed to tell Soap he was going to be gone a week, so Roach resolved himself to leave.

At the bar, he delivered Ghost’s news, which was received with a displeased frown, but no argument since Ghost had enough vacation days. It was a Saturday, so the crowds were a little more than average, but not as bad as most Fridays.

He stayed behind to help clean up, Soap and Price leaving about halfway into him stacking the chairs, and handed him the keys to lock the place up, saying they had a spare when he stared at them. 

After he finished putting things back up and cleaning, he locked the doors behind him and took out the last sack of trash, tossing it into the dumpster in the alley, grimacing at the smell. He heard footsteps and sighed, turning around and saying, “Sorry, sir, bar’s closed.”

He noticed there were two of them, and he frowned, unease curling in his gut. 

“We ain’t here for the bar,” one said, and he recognized it as Nelson. 

Roach immediately started backing up, bumping into the back of the dumpster as they slowly drew nearer. “Er. What are you here for, them?” he asked warily.

The silent one cracked his knuckles dramatically, and Roach couldn’t help the morbid amusement the scene and sound brought him.

“I think it’s obvious,” Nelson said dryly.

Roach swallowed. Before the men could reach him, he quickly turned around and grabbed a bottle from the dumpster, turning around and whipping the silent man in the head with it, bottle shattering on impact while the man dropped like a bag of rocks. Before he could get another one, Nelson was on him. He kneed up, trying to hit the man in the balls but his knee was quickly caught and pushed aside. Without thinking, he flung himself at Nelson, trying to catch him by surprise, and felt a few fists to the gut for his troubles, one forcing the breath out of him. 

By luck, more than anything, Roach managed one good punch on Nelson’s temple and another under the jaw and he fell down, dazed. Before he could get back up, Roach took off running for his car, falling into the driver’s seat with a grunt and shutting the door hard. 

He shoved the key into the ignition, waiting impatiently for the engine to turn over, eyeing the alley nervously before it finally flipped. Quickly putting the car in reverse, he backed out before switching gears and flying out of there in a screech of tires. 

His usual five minute commute took about three, and the one punch to his stomach had really started to hurt by the time he pulled in, the adrenaline fading. He only happened to glance down after pulling out the key to see all the blood covering his front and now his seats.

He grimaced and brought the hand holding the keys to the wound and pressed down a little to be sure, and hissed through his teeth at the sizzle of pain it brought.

The amount of blood loss on the way there started to catch up to him, and his last thought before slumping over was how much it was going to cost to fix the upholstery in the car.

Oh well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Am Once Again Asking For Kudos And Comments. OH GOD, IT'S BERNIE SANDERS WITH A METAL CHAIR!  
> I'm so sorry.  
> I want to replay COD4 again but writing this took too long and I'm not starting it at midnight lol. I'm way too tired. Hope you enjoyed, the next chapter will get here when it gets here and will begin with Ghost's POV.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo I'm back with another. Really hope you enjoy Ghost's pov, it was fun as hell to write. 
> 
> I will say though this chapter is shorter than the last one, I like it a lot more. When I have time I'm gonna go and edit ch4 because I'm very unhappy with it so. Look out for that.

Simon knew he was an impatient man. Wasn’t afraid to admit it, either. But when Roach said he’d be home by two, and as it slowly creeped toward two thirty, he got impatient. Finally, he growled under his breath and jumped to his feet, intimidating posture dampened by the loose fitting clothes he was wearing courtesy of Gary.

He walked up to the window facing the lot outside and peered out, frowning even harder at the sight of Gary’s car on and parked. Crossing his arms, he waited. And waited. After two minutes of nothing, concern flashed through his mind and anxiety curled in his gut. 

It took no more than thirty seconds before he was stalking across the parking lot on a mission, wrenching Gary’s door open and heart nearly stopping at the sight. In the yellow cast by a nearby streetlamp, the orange of blood covered Gary and the seats around and under him. 

“Gary?” he croaked, clearing his throat before trying again. Scenes from Normandy snapped into focus, a private who’d been under his wing, taking a bullet to the throat and falling to the ground the same time a mortar landed. Simon blinked and it was gone. Snapping out of it, he reached a shaky hand forward and pressed it to Gary’s neck, terrified he’d find his neck unresponsive and cold. 

He felt relief not unlike when he’d successfully crested the cliffs on Normandy beach upon finding a pulse, weak but regular. It wasn’t weak enough to terrify him, but it was enough cause for concern, along with the blood in Gary’s prized car. 

Prying Gary’s lifeless, no, uncooperative body from the car, he couldn’t help but think about hearing Gary gloat about his pride and joy to Price, who knew a thing or several about automobiles.

Glancing around to make sure no one was near, especially Gary’s attackers, he hefted the other man up into a bridal carry and walked in even strides back into and up the building. Even if he was unconscious, he didn’t want to jostle the wound.

Finally reaching the top, he walked into the flat and shut the door behind him with his foot, and walked into the bedroom and set Gary on the bed gently, sheets be damned. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, as these weren’t his, but figured he’d just buy Gary better sheets later as an apology.

He tore open Gary’s shirt, wet and already beginning to crust with blood and was dizzyingly relieved to see only a sluggish trickle, not a full on gush. It was deep, but not too deep. 

Simon glanced up and caught Gary’s brows furrowed slightly and swallowed, reaching up and smoothing the wrinkle out carefully. He couldn’t help the light caress after, something warm settling in his chest to replace the burning dread. He wasn’t ready to lose another. The war had been over for years, far longer than how long he’d fought in it.

Fairly certain that he had seen a first aid kit in Gary’s bathroom, he crouched down and dug it out from under the sink, opening it to find a bottle of alcohol, some sterile bandages, Iodine, and a thread and needle. There were some smaller items but he rifled through them to get to the true goodies thoughtlessly. Once he had the necessary materials, he went back into the room and poured some alcohol on a clean towel, wiping the area off around the wound.

The kit didn’t have morphine, and Simon didn’t know how he’d react to it anyway. There was a man in his unit who he’d seen almost die from anaphylactic shock before the blood loss could catch up. Worst case, he saw some liquor in the pantry if they needed something for the pain. 

It took a while, over an hour at least before he finished up everything, stitches stitched and bandages taped. He was mildly glad a medic in his platoon had forced him and some other officers to learn basic medicine just in case. 

Now, it was really about just waiting for Gary to wake up and tell him who did this so Ghost could track them down and slit their throats before throwing them in the nearest river. He glanced at Gary’s lax face and figured that he wouldn’t like that and settled for beating the fear of Ghost and all that was holy into them. 

After about twenty minutes or so, he saw Gary begin to stir and ran to grab the bottle of rum, coming back and setting it aside just in case the injured man wanted it.

Another minute or so and Gary blinked his eyes open, squinting up at Ghost with his eyebrows turned up inquisitively. After a second they furrowed in pain once it registered and his wandering eyes locked meaningfully on the bottle of rum beside Simon.

It didn’t take anymore hints for Simon to understand and grabbed the bottle, popped the cap, and handed it over soundlessly. He couldn’t help but find humor in how quickly Gary downed his first few sips before pulling away with a grimace at the taste. Simon didn’t ask why he had a bottle of liquor he didn’t like, just figured it was a gift and he’d forgotten to throw it in the bin.

Once Gary held the bottle out with a shaky arm, Simon quickly took it and set it on the floor. Now that he’d waited for Gary to wake up and to manage his pain, he decided he’d waited long enough.

“Who did this?” he asked bluntly, voice cold.

Gary huffed and tried to sit up, but grunted and quickly found the pain in his side too great to conquer. Simon rolled his eyes and stood to help him sit up, bringing the pillows under him carefully.

“Tell me. Stop stalling,” he ordered, harsh tone tempered by the fact that his hand was gently holding Gary’s shoulder. Gary seemed to know this as well but humored him.

“That Nelson guy who cornered you last time, and some smaller buddy of his. Went after me probably because they’ve seen us together some,” he said, glancing down at the bandages over his bare stomach. “Managed to knock one out, but Nelson somehow got me with a knife before I could get out. Didn’t really notice until I’d pulled up here and plumb passed out,” he admitted, smoothing a bloodied thumb over a white crinkle in the bandage.

Simon’s lip curled up in anger and his fists clenched, but he didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, he summed up the courage and said; “I’m worried about you,” he ground out. 

Gary raised an eyebrow and motioned with his hand with a small smile to continue.

Simon took a breath and went on. “I’m worried, an’ I don’t know what to do, an’ this is all my fault an’ I don’t wanna lose you,” he finished, chest tight from anxiety at the words spoken, his fears seeing the, well, dark of night for the first time since he was a boy and his biggest worry was whether Mary would tell the teacher he’d looked at her homework.

Gary’s face had taken an undeniably soft look and he reached up and grabbed Simon’s hand which was still on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Tonight, though, I’d  _ really  _ appreciate it if you came in here and held me while I sleep and get better so we can play some form of action while I take work off tomorrow and feel bad for Soap,” Gary decided, looking smug when Simon let out a defeated sigh.

“First, I am washing mine and your hands off. I’m not really sure about the state of the sheets so you can  _ carefully  _ check that out while I wash, alright?”

“Yes,  _ mom _ ,” Gary muttered. Simon just smiled and walked into the bathroom, thoroughly washing his hands before grabbing a washcloth and soaking it and putting soap in it and going back out.

Gary was looking thoughtfully at the sheets, which seemed mostly clean. Simon guessed that Gary’s clothing took the brunt of it. He knelt next to the bed and took Gary’s hands, wiping them as clean as he could before standing and tossing it back in the sink. 

After that, he quickly undressed and put on some more of Gary’s clothes before carefully tugging off Gary’s pants as well. Rather than sliding some joggers on him, he leaves him in his skivvies and just climbs into the bed beside him, careful as ever so as not to jostle him.

He slid down the bed and tugged the covers over them, gently easing Gary back down. Reaching across to click off the lamp, he meant to settle on his side of the bed and try to sleep, but Gary pointedly clearing his throat stalled him. 

“You’re forgetting part of what I said,” he stated, lifting an eyebrow impatiently. 

Simon did a mental review of their earlier conversation before he remembered and snorted, sliding closer, laying on his side and slotting against Gary, even though he stayed on his back.

Feeling bold, he stretched his neck a little and kissed Gary’s cheek softly, insides melting at the little sigh he got in reply before settling back down and getting comfortable.

“Tomorrow,” Simon murmured, nuzzling his head into Gary’s shoulder.

“Tomorrow,” Gary agreed quietly.

Simon wasn’t sure what they were doing tomorrow, but he knew he was ready for anything if he could just hold Gary a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly: Ghost is secretly a sap but I think we all knew that.  
> Secondly: I beat cod4 on veteran a few hours ago which is honestly the main reason this took so long. Not only did I beat the game on veteran, I got all the achievements in it too. I'm so fuckin happy and relieved like holy shit it was so stressful to play through on vet. Went through some missions on recruit to mop up the last achievements/intel and it was so mfn easy like DAMN.  
> Anyway I hope you guys liked this chapter, the next one we will go back to Roach and hopefully something exciting happens. Maybe it'll just be fluff. Who knows.  
> Those subbed to me, if you see me upload a Band of Brothers fic in the next week no you didn't <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh the reason for this late update isn't due to lack of motivation, but rather too much. So instead of writing it out like a sane person would, I've instead played 20 hours of Fallout4 the past week. Sorry lol.  
> As I was writing this chapter (while watching MASH, a lot is happening) I decided I'm gonna do some post-fic editing. So you're likely going to see some inconsistencies from hereon, but they will be resolved some time in the future, so don't call me out about Simon's speech changing lol.
> 
> ANYWAY! Enjoy this chapter, I'm thinking we only have two or three left to go. Likely two and an epilogue. I'll continue to rant about this in the end notes lol. I need to stop saying lol.

When Gary woke the next morning he was outrageously hot and it felt like a professional wrestler had sucker punched him in the stomach. He let out a groan through clenched teeth and shifted slightly, trying to find the source of the heat and weight against his side. 

His ire lessened at the sight of Simon asleep on his shoulder. He smiled a little when he saw Simon’s mouth hanging open and felt bad when he shifted his shoulder to wake him up. 

He got a muffled grunt and Simon frowned, sitting up and looking at Gary with blurry eyes. “What?” he grumbled, wiping a hand along his face, a faint scratching sound coming from his stubble. 

“Where’s the rum?” he muttered, resting his hand gingerly on the wound, wincing a little. Simon’s face turned worried and he quickly clambered out of bed to grab the bottle. After handing it over, Gary took a couple of swigs before yanking the bottle away with a gag and a grimace.

“Better?” Simon asked, setting it aside and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Gary shifted once more and relaxed when all he felt was a faint burn, not the searing pain it’d been before. 

“I’d ask you to go to the drug store if I wasn’t worried one of those goons would get you,” Gary said, slowly edging up into a sitting position, resting against the headboard with his mouth pressed in a straight line.

“Might go just to tell Soap what happened,” Simon mused, turning his head to tuck his face into the crook of Gary’s neck.

“Soap knows?” Gary asked, voice tinged with surprise as he turned to stick his nose in Simon’s hair.

“Mmm. He’s bailed me out of a few situations,” he confirmed, rubbing his face indulgently into Gary’s shoulder.

“Has he now? Like what?” 

Simon snorted into Gary’s shoulder, his own shaking with amusement. “Like when I first showed up at that pub after leaving Makarov and got wasted. Hadn’t an idea of who I was but he managed to get an address out of me and took me home. I showed up the next day to apologize and he offered me a job.”

“That brings me to my next question; what is the deal with this entire situation, how much danger am I in still, and why in the hell am I crazy enough to let you stay here?” Gary demanded, tone slightly hysterical as the events finally sunk through the love-drunk and rum induced haze he’d fallen under.

Simon had the decency to look guilty. “This is a bit of a long story, if you don’t mind listenin’,” Simon warned, turning his face from Gary’s neck and just resting the side of his head on Gary’s shoulder. 

“I don’t,” Gary affirmed.

“Well then. After the war ended and I was able to get back to London, I’d realized I had nothing there and seeing my beloved city in ruins didn’t sit well with me. Decided I’d move to New York and have a fresh start. When I got here, I accidentally made my way into the seedier sides of town and before I knew it, after a few cage fights for cash, I was bein’ recruited by Makarov. You keepin’ up?” Simon paused, amusement coloring his tone at the intensely thoughtful looks on Gary’s face.

“Sure, yeah, keep going dunderhead,” Gary huffed.

Simon just rolled his eyes but continued. “Anyway. I told him of my skills and he hired me on as a hitman. I’m too small to be muscle, so he gave me his best weapons and sent me off. After a couple years of it, I realized it was destroyin’ me. I’d left the war but the mindset had stuck around. I was always edgy and couldn’t talk to anyone. I was drowning in myself, so I left. Been about a year now and they keep buggin’ me to come back. It’s been worse lately, so I know something’s about to happen. Which is why I think we need to do somethin’ first. Bet he won’t be expectin’ it.”

Gary sat in silence for a moment. “Help me to the bathroom? I need to piss,” he said suddenly. Simon frowned, but nodded and slid out of bed, helping Gary out and into the bathroom.

“Need my help standing?” Simon asked carefully.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Gary muttered, shutting the door.

Simon leaned against the wall, waiting for a minute before the door finally opened and Gary came out. He wasted no time gently taking Gary’s elbow and taking him back to the bed. 

“I agree with you,” Gary said once he was resettled. It took Simon’s brain a second to rewind back to what they were talking about before.

“Yeah?”   
  


“Yeah.” He snorted and knocked shoulders with Simon. “Do you know where Makarov is holed up?”

“Aye. Tomorrow is Wednesday and on Wednesdays he lets most of his crew take the evenin’ off. Not much crime happens on Wednesdays, you see,” Simon explained. “There’ll be a skeleton crew, of course, but they’ll probably just be playing poker in a backroom and minimal security outside.”

Gary was listening intently, eyes narrowed and focused. “Right.”

“Makarov will be in ‘is office. He’ll be armed and his office locked, but I’m sure that I can pick it and he’ll let me. You’ll wait in the hallway and I know ‘e’s gonna want to talk to me, so we’ll have a little bit of time. When I tap my foot, you’ll come in, alright?”

“Got it. You’re thinking I’ll be fit by tomorrow night?”

“Little bit more rum in your blood and you’ll do fine. I trust you’ve shot a gun before?”

Gary laughed, startling Simon a little. “Yeah, Simon, I’ve shot a gun. You can’t live on a farm and not fired one. I’ve got a rifle and a Luger a buddy of mine gave me when he came back from the war. He owed me one and that’s what I asked for.”

Simon couldn’t fight a grin. “Bet he was mighty displeased with you after that.”

“Nah, he’d gotten a kraut coat and hung it up on the wall where the Luger was,” Gary said, chuckling into the palm of his hand.

“That’s certainly impressive. I have a Luger as well, actually. Requisitioned it off a POW after offerin’ to do night watch.”

“Well, we have arms covered. Now, what are we doing the rest of today?”

  
  
  


Turned out, the rest of their day was spent lounging around, eating, and listening to reruns of  _ The Lone Ranger  _ on the radio, as it wasn’t on the television and neither wanted to move to the couch.

Simon managed to scrounge up some food in the kitchen, warming some canned soup on the stove before bringing the pot into the bedroom.

Gary ended up napping for a few hours before waking up in the early evening, downing some more rum and making Simon help him into the living room.

“I want to see the news,” was his excuse.

Simon had sighed, but done it. They’d sat on the couch, pressed together and both somehow managed to fall asleep.

They were startled awake by the end of the broadcast playing of the national anthem and the glaring multicolor lights.

“Gary,” Simon grumbled, shoving weakly at Gary’s side to rouse him. All he got in response was some angry grumbling as Gary ignored him.

Simon sighed in resignation and stood up, picking Gary up in a bridal carry with a grunt. He couldn’t help but be thankful the scenario was far different from the one the previous night.

Gary growled something into Simon’s ear as he set him back onto the bed and Simon just smiled. They didn’t get dressed all day, so he just climbed in. He figured he’d shower in the morning and probably help Gary take one as well. One needed to be clean to do crime.

As he settled in beside Gary, the man himself opened bleary eyes and squinted at him through the dark. “My father was a coward,” he slurred. Perhaps he’d had a little bit too much rum.

“Yeah?” Simon asked, humoring him.

“Mm. Glad you’re not like him.” Were his parting words before slipping back to sleep.

Simon chuckled quietly before following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! This is not a very long fic, I know that, but this is my first attempt at a chaptered fic past two, and one that was fully plotted out and everything. I have several oneshot ideas for this and other fandoms I can't wait to work on. 
> 
> I need to stop talking like this is the last chapter. I'll do more "omg i did something" talk after the epilogue, so be warned. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, sorry about me rambling, remember to not mention the inconsistencies, and to leave a kudos if you haven't.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm not dead! Sorry for the delay, with Cyberpunk 2077 coming out last week (roughly) I've been Very busy playing it. Also, don't let people fool you, the game is very fun and the glitches are almost all just funny af. I already know I'll be making Cyberpunk fics rip me <3

The entire next day was spent checking over and cleaning their weapons, with Gary having to rest and down another shot of rum every once in a while. Gary hoped that with a mix of adrenaline and rum he’d be able to make it through the night. Hopefully go to the hospital after. From what Simon had told him, with Makarov dead the entire organisation would crumble. The power struggle itself would tear it apart. 

So, Gary was currently watching the early evening news while waiting on it to get dark outside. Simon was just going over the guns over and over, not wanting them to jam even if the slides had never racked smoother before and the magazines in perfect working order.

“How big are your pockets?” Simon called, the sound of a  _ clunk  _ could be heard as he set a gun on the table.

“Uh. Big? Why?” Gary asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Need somewhere to store extra ammo,” he replied. 

“Ah. They should be big enough then.”

All he got back was a thoughtful hum. Gary turned back to the television while they marveled at the moderate temperatures.

Just after the news switched over to a western, Gary glanced out the window and saw it was dark out. 

“Hey Simon, think we could go now?”

He saw Simon look up and out the nearest window. “No, we need to wait until it’s late so the ones on duty will be sloshed. You could take a nap, if you’d like. It’ll be a while and I know you’re still tired.”

Gary hummed non committedly, picking at a string hanging off his sweatpants. “I think I’ll do that. I can’t take anymore waiting. Wake me when it’s time to go.”

He tilted his head back against the ridge of the couch and closed his eyes. He heard a rustle and Simon clearing his throat. “Er. Would ya like me to sit next to you?” Simon asked awkwardly. 

Gary smiled with his eyes still closed. “Yes, Simon. I don’t think I’d ever say no to you sitting beside me,” he mused.

A moment later, Simon was settling against his side, a warm weight that left Gary feeling pleasant.

He fell asleep almost in record time.

  
  
  


Gary was shaken awake a few hours later, and he opened his eyes feeling groggy. He’d had sort of a continuous minor headache from the constant rum intake, and he wasted no time in grabbing the bottle tucked into the corner of the couch and taking a few gulps before turning to Simon.

“Are we all set to go?” Gary asked, voice still a little rough from sleep and rum.

“Aye. Just get dressed and we’ll be good, it’s nearly midnight.”

Gary nodded and carefully stood, mildly happy that he did so with no help, and stumbled sleepily to the bedroom to get dressed. He emerged a few minutes later and took another gulp of rum before grabbing his Luger and grimacing while putting it in the waistline of his jeans. He unfortunately didn’t have a proper holster and this would have to do.

He stood up to his full height with a wince and looked at Simon, who was also tucking a pistol into his pants. “Are we taking the bus? Or a cab? I doubt we want my license plate to be seen,” Gary asked, walking over to Simon by the front door.

“Cab, faster and more inconspicuous. Even this time of night it shouldn’t be hard to catch one.”

Five minutes later saw them in the back of a cab on their way to the south side of the city to the warehouse Makarov has set himself up in the past few months. Simon told him that Makarov isn’t prone to moving, and only does so if he feels extremely threatened.

  
  


In the dark of the backseat, they held hands between their bodies, grips tight. What they were about to do was starting to set in and Gary’s nerves were ratcheting, the resulting adrenaline easing the remaining pain in his stomach.

Soon, they pulled up about a block down from the building and got out, Simon tipping the driver well enough that he didn’t mind the dark area they were in.

The walk to the warehouse was silent and short, with Ghost taking point when they got close enough. They both went opposite ways around the building, knocking out the bored guards at all the entrances and tying and gagging them. They met up where they started after a few minutes and nodded. 

Roach wasn’t a trained killer, not like Ghost was, but he knew how to knock someone out, had done it often enough during bar scuffles and at various points during his childhood, and sneaking really wasn’t that hard if you were slow and the guards distracted.

Slowly, they crept into the building, passing a room lit up and filled with loud drunken voices, just as Simon predicted, Roach mused.

Near the back of the building, Ghost stopped them. “This should be his office,” he murmured, leaning in close to Roach. “Remember, he lets me in and we talk. When I think he’s let his guard down enough, I’ll tap my foot and you’ll come in and either of us shoot him. Understood?”

Roach nodded. “Got it,” he replied, voice just as low.

Ghost nodded back and kneeled in front of the door and started picking it while Roach stood against the wall, out of sight from the room when the door opened.

A few minutes later, the lock gave a quiet  _ click  _ and Ghost took a deep breath before standing and opening the door, walking in but leaving it open behind him.

“Makarov,” Ghost said lowly, and Roach could hear the suppressed anger just in the one word.

“Ghost. How nice to finally see you back here. And your little friend Gary, or does he prefer Roach now?” Makarov replied, voice smooth and smug.

Roach froze, heart picking up immediately. Makarov knew he was there. Oh God, he was dead meat. He shuddered and swallowed, slowly stepping into the room where he saw Ghost standing stiff, obviously as upset as Roach about the sudden and unwanted change in plans.

“Now, I think we all know why you are here, don’t we?” Makarov said, interlacing his fingers and setting his hands on the desk, leaning forward eagerly.

He and Ghost stayed silent, Roach’s eyes narrowed spitefully.

“Hm. Well, I have an offer for you, Ghost, if you’re willing to listen?”

Ghost gave a curt nod. Roach had a feeling he wouldn’t like this deal.

“To put it simply, if you kill that young man beside you, I’ll let you go, no strings attached,” said Makarov, smile turning sly.

Sometimes it was truly a curse being right all the time.

Roach glanced sideways at Ghost, a little worried he’d take the deal. The fury on the man’s face quickly took care of that thought.

“What do you have to gain from his death?” Ghost growled, mouth turned down in a sneer.

Makarov laughed and shrugged. “Your suffering. You’ve killed my men and have drained my resources, this would be your penance. Another option is you returning to be my hitman and I’ll even let your partner here live. It’s up to you.”

The room was silent for a moment, and Roach shifted nervously, the gun in his waistband warm against his back. He really didn’t like being in this situation, and just wanted it to be done and over with so he could go to the hospital and get the good medicine.

“Neither. I’m not agreeing to either of those,” Ghost sneered reaching for his gun.

Roach heard, “This is your doing,” from Makarov before the man himself pulled out his own gun faster than Ghost and shot Roach in the shoulder, causing him to fall with a yell.

Ghost, stunned, froze and looked up at a grinning Makarov. 

Roach groaned quietly, the burning searing pain in his shoulder nearly too much, but he still managed to reach back with his other arm and grab his gun, and flipped off the safety. Before either Ghost or Makarov noticed what he was doing, he’d already aimed and fired, shooting Makarov point blank between the eyes. His blood and brains splattered against wall and the report of the gun hung heavy in the room for a moment.

A second later, Ghost snapped out of it and grabbed Roach’s good arm and dragged him up, dragging a strangled cry from Roach. 

“We need to hurry, they’ll be onto us soon,” Ghost panted, pulling a stumbling Roach after him.

“I saw a payphone near where the cab dropped us. I’ll call Soap to come get us, think you can hold on that long?” Ghost asked as they came out of the building, walking as quickly as they could.

“Got anything you can use as a bandage while we wait?” Roach forced out through clenched teeth.

“My scarf is wrapped around my hips, we can use that,” Ghost said. 

Roach snorted breathlessly. 

“Why did you even bring that thing?” he mused. He could soon see the payphone Ghost had mentioned.

“It makes a good belt,” Ghost replied, voice slightly amused. 

They made the rest of the journey in silence. When they got there, Ghost gently sat Roach against the wall of a nearby building before pulling out a quarter and slotting it into the slot. A few moments later his low voice could be heard.

Roach zoned out for a minute but when he came back to, it was to Ghost harshly pressing the scarf to his shoulder, face set and blank.

After he did that, he fell beside Roach and sat against him, constantly glancing over to make sure Roach stayed awake. Other than the burning pain and the slight nausea and dizziness, the bleeding wasn’t too bad anymore and he felt confident he could make it to the hospital.

About ten minutes later, Soap’s car pulled up against the curb. He rolled the window down and stuck his head out with a frown. “Get in you dimwits,” he ordered, jerking his head to the backseat.

Ghost sighed in relief and stood up, dragging Roach up beside him and causing them both to grunt. Thankfully, it was a short walk from the wall to the comfortable backseat.

Ghost quickly slid in beside him and shut the door and they were off. 

As they drove by the warehouse, Roach could hear faint panicked yelling.

Let the power struggles begin, he thought, settling back into the leather.

“To the hospital, aye?” Soap asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at them.

“Aye,” Ghost agreed, glancing over at Roach, whose eyes were getting admittedly heavy now. “An’ hurry if you can, he’s lost too much blood the past couple days.”

“Is that why he’s been gone?” Soap asked, voice a little upset.

“Yeah, was stabbed outside the pub on his way home,” Ghost informed.

“ _ He’s  _ right here,” Roach muttered, annoyed.

“And  _ he  _ is currently injured, so shut your yap and concentrate on staying awake,” Ghost snapped. 

“Fine.”

A moment of silence before Soap spoke again. “And I’ll take it this is why  _ you’ve  _ been gone as well, makin’ me and Price have to take over. You’re lucky I like you guys, and that Price does, or you’d be outta jobs.”

“Lord, there are too many accents in this vehicle,” Roach huffed.

“Shut it,” both men snapped.

Roach wasn’t religious, but Ghost’s and Soap’s combined worry for him was suffocating enough for him to be tempted to turn to the Lord.

It was likely the longest car ride of his life, solely from Ghost and Soap’s bickering rather than the throbbing pain in his body.

Oh well, couldn’t be helped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that there will be one more chapter after this, which will be the epilogue. After the epilogue is published I will begin editing which will likely leave some changes as I'm not very proud of a few of them lol. Will hopefully have the next chapter up before Christmas, so see you guys soon. (I made it my goal to finish this before the year ended lol.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas! The last chapter is here! I know it's a little shorter, sorry, but I was impatient to finish. I know I keep teasing those mysterious editing changes, but they're gonna happen!

Gary’s first few days in the hospital were a very pleasant blur, as the morphine seemed to drip into his bones and weigh him down deep into the bed. He was told Simon visited once, but he was either asleep or too drugged out to remember, and he hadn’t returned since. 

Soap had dropped by earlier that day, actually. Asked him how he was and told him he was on paid leave until cleared for work again. When Gary tentatively asked about Simon, Soap gave him an exasperated look.

“Gary,” he paused to make sure the door to his room was shut before turning back and picking up. “Gary, that day you walked in on me an’ Price behind the counter, I think it was very clear what we were doin’, so no need to be pussyfooting around your… weird thing happenin’ with Simon, alright?”

Gary stiffened and his face got uncomfortably red way too fast. “R- Right. Um.”

Soap only rolled his eyes. “He’s workin’, told me he’ll stop by tomorrow on his break. Obviously can’t come by too much, so you’re on your own kid.”

Gary sighed, shoulders slumping. “The doctors say I’m gonna be here another week, and that I likely won’t get cleared for work for another two weeks. What am I supposed to do?”

“Well I’m putting you on paid leave, but until you’re back? Find a hobby, you idiot, it isn’t that hard. Read some books you like, catch up on some of those rubbish westerns you Americans are so taken by. No matter what you do, you have options.”

Gary actually listened for once, and when Soap left he requested any Sherlock book they could find. He later dozed off that night with the  _ Hounds of Baskerville  _ on his chest, slowly rising and falling.

  
  
  


The next day was spent impatiently waiting for Simon to make his appearance, and when he did, Gary had to restrain himself from pulling the insufferable man into a long hard kiss. He settled for a huge grin instead.

“How’re you feelin’?” Simon asked, looking a little nervous as he wrung out his hands.

“Very nice, the morphine makes it feel like the pain is in another room, I quite like it. I can see how it’s addictive.”

“‘Least they’re weaning you off of it, it looks like,” Simon noted. “As you’re, ya know, lucid.”

Gary snorted. “Might be a bit of a tip off, dunno though,” he said with another slight laugh at the end. Finally seeing his  _ whatever he was  _ was making him feel warm and fuzzy and he had mixed thoughts about it.

They let a comfortable silence fall over them before Simon suddenly reached over and turned on the radio that Gary had forgotten to switch back on after he woke up. 

“The Inkspots? Haven’t heard a song of theirs in a while,” Gary said, motioning for Simon to turn it up, who thankfully did.

Gary glared at Simon for no particular reason as he hummed along to  _ I don’t want to set the world on fire  _ and bobbed his head slightly. When the song ended, Simon turned down the volume and looked back at him.

“Did the doctors tell you when you can leave?”

“Ah, they said about another week here and another two weeks at home before I can even think about going back to work, or I might tear my stitches, of which I have many. Don’t really have a choice here,” Gary said, voice pouty.

Simon sighed. “I’ll be able to visit one more time before you check out, alright? Soap has been damn near tyin’ me to the bar so I can’t scarper off. You’ll be fine without me, right?”

“Simon, I’ll sure miss you a lot, but I think I’ll manage to survive without your concerned presence,” Gary said dryly, mouth quirking up into a sly grin.

After checking to make sure the door was closed and no one was around, similar to what Soap had done, Simon quickly leaned forward and gave Gary the hard but not quite long kiss he was craving earlier. Simon quickly pulled away with a grin and a wink. 

“I’ll be back!” and then he was gone.

  
  
  


Gary had to give it to Simon, he did indeed come by one last time. And Gary, with all the grace of a teenager on his first date had suddenly blurted out “I love you!” while Simon was complaining about a customer from the night before. 

The words stopped Simon short and it looked like some wires of his got crossed before he managed to formulate an answer.

“Really?” His tone was full of disbelief.

Gary was at a loss. What was he supposed to say to that? 

“Uh. Dunno?”

“That’s a shit answer,” Simon huffed, crossing his arms.

“Well if you don’t love me back you don’t have to get all shifty about it,” Gary snapped, looking away.

Simon sighed before gently taking his face and holding it. “Gary, I love you too, it’s just hard for me to believe someone could actually love me,” Simon said quietly.

Gary let out a shuddery sigh before shaking his head.

“You idiot. Well, now you’ve gotta move in with me,” Gary said pragmatically.

Simon lifted an eyebrow. “I do, hm?”

“Yeah, that’s the… relationship law.”

“Then fine, have me a key made and I’ll be over in no time,” Simon said fondly.

“It’s a deal then,” Gary stated.

  
  


They both held their promises. As soon as Gary was able, he had a duplicate key made, and Simon moved all his stuff in the day before Gary could go home. 

Gary had never realized how light Simon had been living, but looking at his small apartment from the couch, he couldn’t help but be grateful.

  
  
  


Gary did soon go back to work, and was rather happy with the boring lifestyle, while Simon frequently got restless and had to stir trouble somewhere in the city, coming home with bruises on his knuckles and sometimes his face.

But Gary was content, and Simon always came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I wanna say that there will be a little gift in the next chapter (it's not an actual chapter but... you'll see)  
> Secondly, I don't think this is the total end of this verse, I have a little idea to write a small Soap/Price oneshot, but we shall see.  
> Third, I finished! This is my first ever completed chapter fic! And I know it's rushed and rough in some places, but I've proven to myself that I can do it! The editing process will be both of our friends. This was a learning curve, and I know for 14k, the amount of time to make this was ridiculous. Sorry guys lol. I hope to make more chapter fics in the future, but right now I miss my little oneshots.


	9. Planning Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post these simply because I thought they were stupid, funny, and showed how I altered my ideas a little from the original outline. And yes, I did actually use these to write the entire story. I make no apologies.

_ Roach pov _

_ As much as it pains me, Price and Soap will only be background characters.. However they still datin :) _

**Roach bg:**

  * Mildly depressed from breakup 
  * Works as a bartender im sorry 
  * Got nickname from dropping a bottle of liquor on a roach on his first day
  * Goes to a club where he doesn’t work and gets CRUNK af
  * Literally fucks Ghost in a back alley man is wildin
  * Drives ‘54 Buick Skylark but for the sake of the story it came out in ‘52 and the story is set in ‘54



**Ghost bg:**

  * Man has mad anxiety, depression and PTSD from like. His whole childhood lol.
  * BARTENDER YEAHH IM ORIGINAL
  * Fuck off ok also Barracks dude i swear im not copying you <3
  * Decided to wallow in depression at the bar he worked at on his off day and somehow ended up fucking Roach in a back alley lmaoo
  * Name from being a ghost behind the bar by refilling drinks without being seen
  * Used to be a hitman for Makarov and his gang before getting out but they still have a smol vendetta



  
  


**Plot Outline**

  * Roach gets dumped by his gf for another bartender she met at the bar Roach worked at.
  * Roach is off so he decided to go get crunk and pulled up to a bar called the W141
  * Sits next to Ghost by chance and the more crunk Roach gets the more he flirts brokenly with Ghost and the more crunk Ghost gets the more he listens
  * Nearing midnight Roach slurred out a nice little drunken proposition to meet in the back alley
  * Ghost said “fuck yeah” and followed him back.
  * Smh they so crunk they only manage Really Fast hand jobs
  * Roach is fuckin dumb (or smart?) when he’s drunk so he invited Ghost to his flat nearby and Ghost is ALSO dumb when drunk so he happily said yes.
  * Fast forward to the next morning they woke up and went “huh?!”
  * It’s real awkward lol and Ghost leaves without even saying bye
  * Roach just thought that Ghost was real fuckin rude but little did he know
  * The bar he went to the night prior didn’t know about his little galivanting so they offer him a job that paid better at their place
  * Roach gave his two week notice at the other place and over the two weeks began to forget about his night with Ghost
  * Roach shows up on his first day, the manager (Price) showed him the ropes so Roach started setting up
  * Before the club opened he met Soap (senior bartender) as well 
  * And lo and behold Ghost showed up right before they opened and Roach and Ghost just stared at each other
  * Soap took Ghost’s appearance as his cue to go talk to Price and left
  * Ghost and Roach have your standard conversation blah blah blah
  * Price yelled that the bar was opening soon and Ghost had to tell the guard at the front door
  * Roach went to finish setting up as people streamed in
  * They tiredly bicker before going home
  * This continued for about a month with mounting sexual tension ofc
  * Three buff dudes catch Ghost on his break and Roach watched from a distance bc he had to smoke
  * Roach didn’t say anything but Ghost got fidgety after
  * Wasn’t a week later when Ghost showed up to Roach’s apartment covered in blood, and not all his own
  * Ghost explained the backstory with the blood n stuff but obviously not his childhood lol
  * Roach said Ghost can stay there for a bit 
  * (be sure to sprinkle in a lot of “why the fuck am i doing this”’s bc Roach is a mortal man)
  * Ghost is like “omg epic” and took a week off work while Roach continued to go so as not to arouse suspicion 
  * Ofc someone saw Ghost go to Roach’s apartment so it wasn’t long before Roach is taken to a nice secluded alley
  * He managed to fight his way out though not without injuries
  * Went to his car and drove home
  * With adrenaline he didn’t even realize how badly he was hurt till he pulled up and was dizzy
  * He passed out! Oh no!
  * Ghost was like “where tf is this cunt” and looked out the window to see Roach’s car
  * He waited for a minute but when Roach didn’t get out he went downstairs and found a half dead Roach 
  * Brought the poor bastard up and fixed the stab wound in his side
  * When Roach woke up Roach is tired of the bs and pulled Ghost into a frankly terrifying kiss
  * After some nice fluffy words Ghost started planning about how to kill Makarov
  * Roach was like “cool <3”
  * They decided to risk waiting one more night for Roach to rest
  * Roach took the day off
  * That evening they go to the warehouse where Ghost had tracked down where Makarov spent his evenings of late 
  * Roach was in ROTC and also his whole family was military and he was trained growing up (Ghost was a hitman. Self explanatory)
  * They systematically take out the guards outside then the ones in the main room before converging on the office
  * Makarov offered Ghost’s freedom if he shot Roach and left
  * Ghost was like “bruh are you fr i know that’s a lie”
  * And Makarov went “you right lol” and then shot Roach point blank in the gut *blushing emoji*
  * Ghost was then like “BRUH WE JUST ADMITTED OUR FEELINGS”
  * Makarov doesn’t care but before he could really do anything Ghost shot him in da brain
  * Ghost couldn’t get tied to the murder so he called Soap to get them 
  * Soap knew of his past vaguely but didn’t know it was catching up to Ghost
  * Soap is like “HUH” but goes anyway
  * He pulled up and took Ghost and Roach to the hospital
  * Roach got better and Ghost visited and ofc they bonded in the two weeks Roach was there
  * Ghost still had to work so he couldn’t stay forever
  * Roach was on paid leave for another two weeks before he was tentatively cleared for work
  * Roach and Ghost go back to how they did when they first met except instead of storming off in opposite directions after work, Ghost never moved back into his flat and goes home with Roach. As roommates ofc



  
  


Roach is wearing: white dress shirt with suspenders and dark pants while his shirt is tucked in. Hair combed back.

Ghost is wearing: white tshirt with leather jacket, shirt tucked in and dark pants. Hair combed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an optional part of the story, but if you read that garbage I hope you found it as amusing as I and my friends have.
> 
> Also, I got MW(2019) and have fallen in love with Alex, I can't take it here. I played the campaign so hard I got a migraine man. I'm too powerful so the universe must stop me.


End file.
